Sick Like Me
by NVSTY
Summary: It's all his fault, the bastard. Actually, they are both to blame, because if it weren't for them, the idea wouldn't have even crossed her mind, and she never would have fallen into rversion. ( PWP. Renegade Shepard. Off-screen death. )


A/N: This isn't a fluffy Shakarian story. It's a PWP, featuring my renegade Shepard.

I plan to write a few more one shots in this universe, so if you like this, keep on the lookout!

Cross-posted from AO3.

Enjoy!

* * *

It's all his fault, the bastard.

Actually, they are both to blame, because if it weren't for them, the idea wouldn't have even crossed her mind, and she never would have fallen into this…. _perversion._

During the hunt for Saren, and up until her death, Kaidan had been at her side, and in her bed. Though in comparison to her own harsh edges, he was more lax, he never questioned her methods. Even when they bordered on brutal. _Hell_ , she hadn't gotten the honorary title of the Butcher of Torfan for nothing.

But the fact of the matter is, he'd gotten pissy when he saw her again on Horizon, acting like she should've crawled over to him like some puppy the _second_ she wasn't dead anymore. As if there weren't more important things to worry about: like a goddamn Reaper invasion, for instance.

So, she shot him.

Having the blood of a friend, and once lover, on her hands didn't so much as make her blink, honestly. Maybe if he hadn't been such a fucking idiot, she wouldn't have shot him — or, she wouldn't have done it fatally. But frankly, he was pissing her off with his bullshit, so there that went. At the time, she couldn't foresee any consequences. She was the first, and currently only, human Spectre; she had saved the Citadel; she was a dead girl breathing again, and it was unlikely anyone with half a braincell wanted to get on her bad side.

Looking back, she should've really weighed her options. The thing with stopping Saren was, no matter how stressful or crazy things got, when there was down-time, she could just fuck the stress away with Kaidan. Didn't matter where or when, the option was always there, and she felt _better_ afterwards. More clear-headed, relaxed, and less likely to bite the head off of anyone who looked at her for too long. Granted, that little quirk never fully went away. It came with the whole package, but a good climax or two could really take the edge off.

And thus, she quickly realizes her mistake in shooting the one man she didn't mind sleeping with on a regular basis — she had no outlet. Not counting her vibrator or fingers, or course, but she would much rather have something _else_. It was always more fulfilling, in a number of ways.

The weight of resurrection and the mission at hand had been slowly pressing down on her, day after day, week after week. She managed, of course, burying herself in paperwork and cold showers in between sparring against her crew ( she always won ). But there was only so much paperwork, and not everyone was so keen to spar with her after seeing the damage she inflicted, due to her mounting sexual frustration. Not that they knew that bit.

It wasn't long after she had fully caught up with reports that certain _ideas_ had sprung to mind. Ideas that became more and more persistent, like the duo, unfulfilled throb between her thighs.

Which is how she winds up bent over her in the main battery, with an equally frustrated ( and, frankly, pissed ) turian fucking her. That's the short version of how she got there, anyway.

And she'll stew in self loathing later on, _as always,_ but until that time came, she was going to enjoy it.

The artificial light in the battery plays across her skin, illuminating the light brown pigmentation in a dull glow; her hair ( said to be _too long for a solider_ by so many ) was tangled within claws, a pleasurable sting blossoming across her scalp.

Her fingers are gripping the edge of the console she's pressed roughly against, mouth parting in a succession of low, sultry moans. Natalia Shepard never, ever, looked at another species sexually before. It had taken a lot just to see a few as worthy comrades — maybe even friends, in some level. But that had been crossing a line; it still was, technically, with the internalized xenophobia she was bred with.

That doesn't make the sensation of Vakarian's cock any less _incredible_ , though. Back arched faintly, her ass is fitted within the concave of his hips, the turian's precision isn't limited to just sniper rifles, as she's discovered. All it took was one strangled noise from her when they begun this little tryst for him to identify that _spot_ that had her seeing stars, and Talia hasn't stopped seeing them since.

She's fairly certain she would have anyway, given the evolutionary upgrades his kind apparently packed. _Ridges_ were a beautiful thing, and the _knot_ wasn't a bad touch either, although that didn't always happen — of course, none of that would've been half as wonderful if his cock wasn't already impressive.

Kaidan hadn't been small by any means, but Vakarian had the best of both worlds when it came to length and girth. Maybe by turian standards, he was average — but humans were generally smaller than turians, and he certainly was bigger than her structure wise. Whatever the case by be, the first time they had sex, she'd been sore for over a week. Granted, that partially was due to just how long it'd been since any kind of penetrative sex had been indulged in, but _still_.

Now she craved that faint burn that came with being stretched, and the rush of feeling him slip into her dripping core, until he bottomed out. There was that calm before the storm, the one where he let her adjust to him briefly, in what another might have done out of concern, he probably did because he knew it annoyed her.

Impatient and reckless, _waiting_ was not something she did easily, especially when he'd give little, shallow movements that had her squirming, aching for more satisfying movement. And just when she thought she'd go insane, nails scratching at whatever surface she was on, he'd pull out almost completely, before driving into her again, giving into the desire to fuck her boneless.

One clawed hand curled around the curve of her hip, his chest thrums with a raspy sound that vibrates through his whole being; and when he leans over her back, pulling her head to the side by her hair, his teeth bite down her neck and shoulder, while his vocals continue to 's no denying it — she's a goddamn whore for his cock, it leaves her _wetter_ than any else has. But she has when he does that, because it forces her to look at him, and it's a reminder of just how far she's fallen.

Commander Shepard, the human Spectre, prized solider in the Alliance, spreading her thighs for a goodamn _turian_ on a regular basis.

"—Spirits, woman. " Vakarian's voice is thick with desire, flanging tones utterly sinful against her skin, the hand in her hair shifts to her other hip, and he pulls her back harder against him. Dark strands of long hair fall over her shoulder and on the console, shifting accordingly with each rough thrust against her backside.

Gross, disgusting turian and his human _fetish_ and _amazing_ aim.

She's close now. With the feel of him pounding into her with deadly accuracy, and the press of dangerous claws against her skin, her heart is rushing, and her thighs are wet from her own fluids. Talia moves her own hand between her legs, dainty, calloused fingers easily finding the bundle of nerves along her sex.

Rubbing tantalizing circles along the nub, she grits her teeth faintly and reflectively tightens her muscles around him, causing a _shout_ of turian expletives that were too fast for her translator to pick up on. His mandibles flutter against the skin between her shoulders, the rumble in his chest increasing with each motion.

He hasn't before, so she doesn't expect him to move a clawed hand to where hers is at the apex of her thighs — but he does. And before she can really grasp what's happening, it's the rough pad of his finger pressing and _rubbing_ delicious against her clit, mindful of his sharp claw.

It pushes her over the edges with a breathless groan, her whole body drawing tight like a bow, inner muscles clenching and fluttering around his cock before he lodges himself deep inside her with a _snarl_. Even as he's pulling out, he's still finishing, and hot strings of cum decorate the lean muscles on her back, while a steady drip of mixed fluids fall down her thighs.

"Bet those _turian_ women can't make you come _that_ hard, Vakarian."

Christ, she really had fallen into the pits of deprivation, then, to even bring that up, let alone feel _prideful_ at how she could make him fill her cunt to the point that she was leaking, and _still_ have enough to mark her back.

Yet, was it really her fault he was such a good fuck, though? Did she _ask_ him to have such a pleasurable dick? No, she didn't. And she didn't ask to get so _desperate_ for a lay that she would have sex with just about anyone, either.

Which is why it was Kaidan's fault, because if he hadn't been such a piss-baby, she wouldn't have shot him, and they'd probably be having sex right now.

It wouldn't have _felt_ as good, no, but at least her conscious would be clear. It would have been good, clean, human-on-human sex that didn't break a dozen regulations, threaten to start another war, or — or give her the best orgasms she's ever had, consistently.

 _Fuck._

To hell with them both.


End file.
